Page 27 of My Three Mountain Men

“I just need to get the hang of this,” Simone insisted, unwilling to give up. “Come on. Give me a chance!”

“Give her a chance, Knox,” Brooks agreed, guiding her along. I grinned despite the awkwardness of her slipping and sliding. “Maybe she’ll become a pro at hunting and checking the traps.”

Truthfully, I was enjoying showing Simone the lay of the land more than I thought I would, and she hadn’t uttered a single complaint. The cold was already getting to me, but I always preferred the comforts of the cabin and my technical luxuries to the outdoors, like Ryder and Brooks.

But I wasn’t about to be shown up by a girl, half my size and weight.

“I’m not sure I’m going to want to see the traps,” Simone admitted as we trekked further through the trees. “What do you usually catch?”

“Depends,” Brooks replied. “Rabbits, mostly, but sometimes a ferret or beaver will venture through. We do a big game hunt twice a year for deer or moose and store the meat for the winter, utilizing the pelt. But the majority of our meat comes from fishing the rest of the year.”

“Some of us are less carnivorous than others,” I added dryly.

Simone whipped her head back to look at me, the lightly falling flakes catching on her eyelashes. “Really? You’re not a meat-eater?”

I shrugged indifferently, slightly embarrassed that I’d mentioned it. “I just prefer greens and fish. But the winters are cold, and proteins are essential.”

“You learn a lot about what your body needs to survive the elements when you’re on your own,” Brooks explained. “We don’t really have the luxury of fad—”

Simone squealed as she took a step and toppled forward, landing face-first in the snow. Both Brooks and I rushed to her side to help her up. Flipping her over, we huddled over her.

“Are you okay?” I demanded, noting she was trembling. It took me a second to realize that she was laughing.

“Maybe we should just head back,” Brooks snorted. “She’s not getting very far like this.”

I extended an arm to help her up, and she accepted it. This time, Brooks and I remained firmly at her side to catch her if she tripped again.

“I’m sorry,” she tittered, still giggling as she brushed the white from the snowsuit. “It’s the damn boots. I can’t walk.”

“We’ll just get you chopping wood,” Brooks joked.

“Sure,” she agreed. “That doesn’t require me running around in snowshoes.”

“I’m kidding,” Brooks reassured her.

“I’m not,” Simone insisted. “I’ll do my part while I’m here. I can help out.”

I found myself casting her an appreciative look.

She’s really more than just a pretty face. Maybe I was too quick to judge her.

Not that I could blame myself. Ryder had been just as suspicious of her. Brooks hadn’t been suspicious enough, in my opinion. But the more time I spent with her, the more I could see that perhaps Simone Summers wasn’t so bad. This wouldn’t be the worst winter we’d ever had in the mountains.

* * *

“I swear I’ve seen this horror movie,” Simone announced inside the woodshed, shivering when I flipped on the hanging lightbulb in the middle of the building.

I snorted, and Brooks laughed.

“Ryder loves it out here,” Brooks informed her. “He finds it peaceful.”

“I wonder what that says about Ryder,” I commented.

“That’s not fair,” Simone teased. “He’s not here to defend himself.”

She glanced at the walls stacked with chopped wood, eyes half-closing to take in the woodsy smell. “I can see why he likes it in here, though. There’s something… nostalgic.”

“Nah,” I snickered. “It’s the only place he knows he can be totally alone, and we won’t come and bother him—especially in the winter.”

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